I've noticed most of these rec league emailers possess a trait and that, due to some tic beyond their control, they need to verbalize their small victories in order to make sure people are paying attention. Because at their stations in life, the only worthwhile accolade can come from a teammate smart enough to realize how blessed they are to play with a true champion. Just in case it goes overlooked on the field, it definitely won't be ignored in an email. Especially when its accompanied by a "P.S."

Guys, As you recall from the last game I was quite disappointed in the play of the guys. We all did not play well.

It's surprising to me how a few of you wanted me to push for the team to be back in the top division, yet no one has shown me that we deserve to be competing at that level.

I have no intention into turning this to a high pressure environment like that of my college playing days. But I refuse to continue to play a game with people who show up to games late (not so much the problem) and despite being late walk instead of sprint to the pitch, continue to make the same mental mistakes over and over, don't even show up to games, bicker/fight/point fingers at others, and finally play without any passion or leadership on the field. It's not so much the result, it's the way we fight that matters. We're a unit, we should all be sacrificing for each other. If I miss a tackle - you have to back me up. If you make a bad pass - instead of throwing up my hands in the air I should go fight for that pass. And in 50/50 challenges - we must always win the ball.

Be prepared for an intense session on Sunday. If you're in Tahoe, or out of town, or just have other plans - lets just hope you catch that earlier ride back or have a good excuse.
Use the "availability tab" to update your status.

Best, Frank

PS: I'm not writing this from my couch watching TV, but rather after coming back from the gym with sweat pouring down my face rehabbing my MCL where all I could think about was how we played and where our team needs to be to compete.

So Frank is practically a gimp yet still willing to risk electric shock as he types this missive on a keyboard drenched in the sweat of generations of pride-less underachievers whom he's personally fireman's carried to victory. Got it? Now click the fucking availability tab or continue slowly drowning in that morass of losers.